


Microfilm

by nwspaprtaxis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Dean Does Research, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Hell Trauma, Hungry Dean, Libraries, Post-Hell, Research, Season/Series 04, Smart Dean Winchester, Smart Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-02
Updated: 2010-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nwspaprtaxis/pseuds/nwspaprtaxis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys are staring at microfilm, doing research... in a library that smells like onions...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Microfilm

**Author's Note:**

> **_A/N:_** This one is completely unbetaed and unedited and probably horribly OOC, written at a whim. It originally was a quick set of dialogue to humor a friend, never intended to go beyond the inbox, but **soncnica** , being the devil's spawn she is, CONNED AND COERCED me into POSTING the five minute scribble. So here you go for your enjoyment. You have her to thank or blame for everything. I wash my hands of this tripe.
> 
> Probably S4-ish, all things considered. Or at least dealing with a post-Hell Dean. The interesting bit of all this is that I still have not yet watched past _3x16 NO REST FOR THE WICKED_. So... yes, I am totally flying blind on this. *headdesk*
> 
>  ** _Disclaimer:_** Do not own. Am not making a profit. Just simply having fun with their psyches and returning them slightly more battered to Kripke and Co. and all that Yada Yada.

It's a sunny and warm July day, but it isn't humid; perfect weather for cruising outside in the Impala with all the windows open. Instead, they're cooped up in the dark, musty Reference Room of the Darbyville Public Library, staring at the ancient, scuffed, weirdly-yellow Microfilm screens scrolling through even older newspapers. Dean's positive it's a Shtriga, but Sam isn't so sure. Hence is the reason, following a heated argument determined by Rock-Paper-Scissors, they're spending a perfectly good Wednesday afternoon reading the Darbyville Courier, backdated to 1837.

**::: ::: :::**

Less than ten minutes in: "I'm Huuuuuunnnnnngry Sam..."

"Shut up Dean, it's been five minutes."

"But I'm dying."

"No you're not, and this probably has nothing on Hell."

Dean pales slightly, bites his lip.

"Sorry. I didn't mean that."

Dean looks up, smirks — _it's okay_ — as he leans forward in his seat, pressing the red fast-forward button on the microfilm reader, making the newspaper blur by, the text a gray streak.

"Are you even researching?"

Dean raises his finger, stopping at a random page. "Yeah."

"Then why are you a week and a half off? You know all the attacks happened on the fifteenth of the month." Sam points to the screen. "That's the twenty-fifth." He presses his lips tightly, clenching his jaw, bitchfacing.

"Um... hunger pains makes my eyes blurry?"

Sam sighs, hands over a ten-dollar bill."Go get some fast food. I'll finish up in here."

Dean snatches the worn green currency from his fingers and, before Sam can blink, he's gone.


End file.
